Waiting in the Wings
by Aquaria Identity 07
Summary: Griffin, the Invisible Man, is secretly in love with Count Dracula, and wants nothing more than to become visible and show the oblivious vampire that someone truly does love him. A mysterious guest at the hotel offers a cure for Griffin's invisibility, but in exchange he wants one thing, something precious that belongs to Dracula without which he cannot live ... Rated T for safety.
1. Intro

**Waiting in the Wings**

**Summary: **Griffin, the Invisible Man, is secretly in love with Count Dracula, and wants nothing more than to become visible and show the oblivious vampire that someone truly does love him. A mysterious guest at the hotel offers a cure for Griffin's invisibility, but in exchange he wants one thing, something precious that belongs to Dracula without which he cannot live ... Rated T for safety.

**A/N: **My first Hotel Transylvania fanfic! I love the movie, and I adore all the characters, especially Drac and Griffin. I thought I could elaborate on Griffin's character and his own thoughts on his invisibility, plus try out some Drac/Griffin fluffiness, which, I'm sure, is a first on this website. C'mon, Griffin's "You're irresistible" line can be taken two ways – and I'm taking the slash route, for sure. ^_^ I have not read "The Invisible Man" by HG Wells, but I have done a bit of research into it to form a basis for Griffin's wish to become visible.

Hope you like this fanfic, so please, no flames.

**Disclaimer: **Hotel Transylvania belongs to Sony Animation. "The Invisible Man" and "Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde" belongs to HG Wells and Robert Louise Stevenson, respectively. I own nothing but this fanfic.

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**Chapter 1: Intro**

Love is blind.

How many times had Griffin heard that insufferable cliché? It certainly grated on the Invisible Man's nerves from time to time – more so when the other monsters constantly threw about this saying to describe the ensuing romance between Mavis and that human, Jonathan – but what irked him the most was the fact that, in his case, the phrase rung true.

Griffin sighed, lying back on his bed with his head buried in his pillow. He felt absolutely fatigued: it was a long, long, _long_ drive to the hotel, and his energy was sapped, what with meeting and greeting some of his closest friends who had gathered at the hotel that evening. Frank and Eunice Stein arrived by Express Mail, per usual, and goodness knows Eunice always had a lot to say (and complain about). Wayne and Wanda were already there with their brood, and the werewolf couple showed off their newborn pups (well, more Wanda than Wayne doing the showing off), two more boys and another girl that they named Wilson, Wiley and Winona. All the attention on these pups, however, did not bode well with the other kids, and that resulted in general chaos and destructive behavior … okay, that was pretty much the norm, only this time multiplied by 1000. Luckily the zombie staff intervened (ie. became the kids' targets-cum-chew toys) before Griffin was nearly decimated.

Beyond tired at this point, Griffin mumbled his excuses and said he was leaving for his room.

"Wait, you can't go yet!" said a very persistent Count Dracula, making a grab for Griffin's arm (only to take hold of his nose instead). "Murray will be arriving shortly. He'll want to _see_ all of us – pardon the pun."

The statuesque vampire's iridescent blue eyes seemed to bore right through the lenses of Griffin's spectacles, and, not for the first time, the Invisible Man thanked whatever gods above that no one could see him blush.

"Can't you wait a minute longer?" asked Dracula, staring intently into what seemed to be the Invisible Man's own orbs.

Griffin reluctantly pulled back from Dracula's grip, and, adjusting his glasses and rubbing his sore nose, replied, "Maybe later, Drac. I'm kinda tired. The drive here, you know, it always takes it out of me." He lowered his voice, forcing the vampire to lean in (and making Griffin blush even more). "And Wayne's kids … they're alright, but I think I've had my fill for the day. Meeting Murray will just about kill me."

"Ah, say no more," whispered Dracula with a chuckle. "I understand. You need time to recover, and Murray certainly won't let you go in a hurry until he recounts everything that's happened to him in the last few months."

He straightened up with a knowing smile. "Alright, I'll let you off this time. Just promise me you'll get enough rest. I don't want you to be anywhere else in a fatigue when my little girl and Jonathan return to the hotel from their trip the day after tomorrow. That's something you can't miss."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world, Drac," answered Griffin, fighting back a sigh.

Before the vampire could say anything else, Griffin turned on his heels and made his way to his room. If the Invisible Man was not wearing his spectacles and did not utter that last remark, Dracula could have sworn he was talking to nobody but himself.

Griffin adjusted his glasses once more with a sigh, running an unseen hand through his abundant, red curls (of which he was immensely proud). He cared deeply for his friends. Sure, over the years they branched out to other monsters that would come and go at Hotel Transylvania, but no one could break apart their social circle – they were family. However, you could only have so many doses of "family", and Griffin had his fill, thanks very much.

Thank goodness he escaped before Murray, aka "the Party", arrived, otherwise he would have collapsed right there in the lobby, exhausted like anything.

_Not that anybody would notice, _thought the Invisible Man bitterly, _unless they tripped over me._

There was no point in being negative, Griffin knew. There were positive things to look forward to during his stay at the hotel: spending time with his friends. Catching up with the other monsters, that was another thing. Oh, spend an hour or so in the sauna with the guys, escape from the women (and kids) for a bit, indulge in some quality "guy time".

But the biggest event to look forward to was the homecoming: Mavis, the only daughter of Count Dracula – the vampire's pride and joy – was returning to Hotel Transylvania with Jonathan, her human boyfriend, from their trip in Hawaii.

Before Jonathan walked into all of their lives, Dracula would never let Mavis step out of the hotel to see the world in all of her 118 years of her life. However, Jonathan – cool, "roll with the punches", fun-loving Jonathan – crept into the vampire girl's heart (it was "zing" at first sight!), and _he_ even made a strong impression on Dracula and the other monsters. So much so, not only did they realise that not all humans were bad, but Johnny even persuaded the stern vampire to let Mavis see the world after her 118th birthday. Being an experienced traveller and deeply respectful, Jonathan promised Dracula that he would look after Mavis. Not without a little reluctance, Dracula relented, and soon the unique couple embarked on a trip to "paradise", otherwise known as Hawaii (or "Haweewee", as Mavis once put it).

Now, they were returning home in two days, and to celebrate their homecoming, Dracula had extended invitations to his closest friends to partake in a welcome-back party, and … well, here they were, Griffin included.

_The things I do for Drac, _thought Griffin, rolling over in the bed with a tired yawn. _Celebrating Mavis's birthday to welcoming her home in the space of – like what? – three months, that pretty much drains one's energy._

Judging by hints dropped by the vampire, Drac was going all out for this party. Nothing was too good for his little girl, his "Mavy-Wavy". He cared so much about her, and apart from the hotel she was the most important thing in his life. Everything he did, he did for Mavis. He always put her happiness before his own …

And Griffin truly wanted his friend to be happy.

_If only I could just pluck up the courage and tell him …_

Griffin groaned in embarrassment, burying his blushing-hot yet invisible face into his pillow. Just the _thought_ that he, Griffin, the Invisible Man, was secretly in love with the one and only _Count Dracula, _and that he desperately wanted to tell the venerated vampire how he really felt about him …

_That_ thought alone sent shivers down his spine.

Rolling onto his back, Griffin gazed up hopelessly at the ceiling in a feeble attempt to calm himself down. His face was still blistering hot, though, and it only aggravated the Invisible Man even more.

_Yes, I am in love with the most famous, over-controlling, over-protective, uptight, domineering, immortal, seriously old and incredibly attractive vampire in history, _he thought, furiously removing his spectacles. _He's my freaking "zing"_ _and I don't have the nerve to tell him how I feel!_

_Not that it matters, though. Drac isn't even aware about my feelings for him and he will _never_ see that as long as I'm invisible. How can I possibly show him that we can be more than friends? Besides, he doesn't believe that anyone could love him, and he only has Mavis's wellbeing in mind, not his own. And as for Martha … he'll never move on from her ..._

It was too painful too think about.

Another sigh escaped from Griffin's lips.

Indeed, love is blind. Despite Johnny being a human, mortal and a bit crazy at times, Mavis saw past his faults and still wanted to be with him. But in the Invisible Man's case, Count Dracula could never – _would _never – be able to see past the other's invisibility – his _greatest _fault – and realise how much Griffin loved him. The vampire would remain forever oblivious, unaware that someone out there had wanted him and remain so for centuries to come, long after Griffin was buried in the ground. No matter how many times he would tease or occasionally flirt with the vampire, Dracula would never ever grasp the concept that the Invisible Man was chasing him.

_Ever_.

_Why? Because I'm invisible. They can see right through me, but they … _he_ … he can't see past my fault._

_I can't show Dracula that I love him._

_And I'll never get the opportunity …_

A tear, almost undetectable, ran down Griffin's cheek. He didn't wipe it away, he just let it fall. Turning on his side, the Invisible Man placed his spectacles on the bedside table and settled into a more comfortable position with a sniff.

Closing his eyes, waiting for sleep to take him, Griffin thought:

_If only there was a cure for my condition … then I'd show Drac the real me … I'd show him that I love him ... that's if he'd want me, too …_

With that thought in mind, Griffin succumbed to sleep, unaware that in a few days time, he would emerge from the wings and get his long-awaited opportunity, but at the expense of his loved ones and the benefit of another, one who had been waiting for his _own_ opportunity to gain something from a certain vampire for a long time …

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**A/N: **First chappa done! It was quite hectic, but I think I did okay. I want to get the cover-art up soon, as well as the second chapter, depending on the response to this introduction. Hope you all liked this, and I hope you're open to some D/G slash. :)

Reviews are welcome!

*~AI07~* ;)


	2. The Guest In Room 354

**Waiting in the Wings**

**Chapter 2: The Guest In Room 354**

No less than two hours later, Griffin emerged from his room, feeling refreshed from his nap. Even his mood had improved somewhat, and the Invisible Man felt like he could take on the world – but for starters, he was happy enough to go down to the bar, have a little drink or two (or three, or _more – _an advantage of his invisibility was that no one could keep track of how many drinks he ordered and consumed, until he ended up babbling incoherently like anything), and of course spend some time with the gang. No doubt, Frank and Wayne would be there, taking a break from their wives (and kids), and Murray the Mummy would surely be recounting some hilarious stories to some interested punters.

And, of course, Dracula would be there, making sure everything was alright, trying to make his guests feel comfortable and preparing for the arrival of Mavis and Jonathan, organizing everything down to the last detail. Only a glass of red wine could relax the uptight vampire, but stopping to have a drink was the least of Dracula's worries, not with the homecoming so close at hand.

_He's so preoccupied with this event, I'm surprised that he can even remember to breathe, _Griffin thought drily, as he stepped into the elevator, though the dreamy look that passed over his face as he thought of the controlling vampire contrasted heavily with the dry remark. As the elevator set into motion, the Invisible Man realised that his cheeks were once again warm, practically glowing (not that anyone would know that) as he blushed, and he furiously shook his head in exasperation.

Smoothing his lucent hair and straightening his spectacles, Griffin angrily thought, _Alright, no more of this schoolgirl nonsense now. I'm not gonna embarrass myself in front of the guys, _**especially **_Drac. No blushing, no excuses, no losing control – none of that! Damn, I need a strong drink._

Still, he knew that it was easier said than done, and goodness knows after a couple of drinks his common sense would be thrown out the window, along with his dignity.

The elevator came to a grinding halt, a chime sounding to indicate that the Invisible Man had reached the ground floor. Griffin exited the elevator and made his way through the busy lobby, ducking out the way of the other monsters who nearly walked into him and almost knocked him to the ground. Some ignorant lagoon monster even managed to knock his spectacles off, and Griffin thanked his lucky stars that no one trod on his precious glasses – he also cursed a little under his breath as he made his way to the bar area.

_Typical bloody monsters, _he thought bitterly as he came to the bar.

Thankfully, his mood lightened once more. The atmosphere was electrifying: the whole place was alive. Many monsters were either seated at the bar counters, calling for more rounds of drinks, or seated at tables, chatting amiably and loudly. Sounds of whoops, laughter and jokes greeted the Invisible Man's ears, and the _clink-clink! _of drinking glasses, filled to the brim, was music to his ears. Suddenly, Griffin felt incredibly thirsty. And believe you me, he intended to quench his thirst.

Just then, a voice rang out: "Hey, Grif! Over here, man!"

Griffin turned in the direction of the bar counter. Sitting there, with happy grins on their faces and with empty glasses at their elbows, were Frank, Wayne and Murray, the latter monster waving at the Invisible Man wildly (and in the process nearly hitting Wayne on the snout). "Grif!" he called again. "We saved you a seat – we knew you'd _show up_ sooner or later."

Frank and Wayne tittered at the weak joke, and Griffin grimaced. However, he tried to push his irritation aside as he joined his friends at the bar. "Hey Murray, it's been a while," he offered as the mummy stood up and shook the Invisible Man's hand in greeting, subsequently pulling him into a massive man-hug, causing Griffin to momentarily lose his breath.

"Geez, you knocked the wind out of me," he wheezed, trying to get his breath back.

"Really? I couldn't tell!" laughed Murray with a big grin. "Nice to _see you_ again, guy. You're _looking_ fine since we last _saw_ each other."

"Ha ha, you're so original, you ought to write a joke book," muttered Griffin, not at all amused at the gags. He knew the mummy meant no harm, but seriously, the "invisibility" jokes were wearing thin. They weren't even _imaginative_, for goodness sake! Not that it mattered to anyone else – they just laughed, like Frank and Wayne were doing right now. Well, Griffin decided there and then that he was not going to let the jokes get to him, and so he offered a chuckle as well, to show them that he had a sense of humour.

Griffin and Murray settled down on their seats, and Murray called to the bartender, "Hey, barman! Another Corpse Reviver #2 for Frank, one more Porchcrawler for Wayne, and gimme some more of that Bloody Aztec! And Griffin, want your usual?"

"You betcha."

"And a Flirtini for my man, the Invisible Man!" concluded Murray with gusto. The bartender nodded in affirmation, and went about setting up the beverages.

"Feeling energised after your nap, Grif?" inquired Frank good-naturedly. "Drac was worried you were gonna faint and never wake up."

"Really? He was worried about me?" asked Griffin, his voice becoming slightly higher in pitch. Realising this, the Invisible Man coughed and tried to sound casual. "Oh, a few hours' sleep always does me good after a long drive."

"_You're_ lucky enough to even get some sleep," interrupted Wayne. "Wait 'til you guys have fifty-plus kids, and then you won't have enough energy to howl at the moon."

"Get real, Wayne," chipped in Frank. "Compared to _Eunice_, your kids are less yadda-yadda, day _and _night. Her doctor didn't have the common sense to remove her voice box. It's no wonder I'm falling to pieces!"

"Speaking of Drac," Griffin intervened, steering the conversation back to the subject of the vampire, "where is he? I thought he'd take a break or something from planning the homecoming."

"_Puh-leeze_, this is Count "Control Freak" we're talking about," responded Murray, rolling his luminescent green eyes. "So long as he's immortal, he ain't gonna stop working his butt off. If anything goes wrong when Mavis is here, he'll shrivel up and die on the spot. Barman! Where the drinks at?"

"Coming in a moment, sir. I'm just serving another customer right now."

Griffin watched as the bartender finished off a difficult-looking concoction, pouring the mixture into a large glass tumbler. Placing the tumbler on a tray and taking the tray into his hands, the winged monster walked to the extreme far-right corner of the counter, where a dark, hunched figure sat isolated by other monsters – this was the first time that the Invisible Man became aware of the figure's existence. The stranger was outfitted from head to toe in black, a fact that was not totally unusual – sort of looking like the Grim Reaper, in a way – but his face was half-hidden by a weather-stained hood.

With a suddenly trembling hand, the bartender placed the tumbler before the stranger and, eyes darting downwards at the counter-top, he stuttered, "Y-y-your d-d-drink, suh-sir."

The stranger did not deign to reply. Or rather, the bartender did not give him enough time to reply, for the winged monster immediately spun around on his heels and hurriedly walked away, almost sprinting, obviously not wanting to wait for a sign of acknowledgement from the strange patron. The bartender quickly began to whip up the gang's drinks, though he looked slightly anxious.

The stranger took a generous gulp of his drink, finishing half the glass's contents in five seconds flat. He slammed the tumbler down on the counter-top, spilling large amber-coloured droplets that wetted the counter-top considerably and ran down to the floor.

Evidently, he did not give a damn, as he did not make a move to clean up after himself.

Cocking a transparent eyebrow, Griffin beckoned to the bartender – then remembered that, being invisible, the bartender could not see him gesturing. With a huff of frustration, the Invisible Man waited until the bartender served the gang their drinks before whispering to him, "You okay? That guy seemed to give you the creeps."

The bartender bit his bottom lip precariously, his eyes darting quickly to his left, presumably to look at the stranger, before focusing on Griffin's spectacles. "Believe me, once you get a good look at him, you'd feel nervous, too," he whispered, so softly that even Wayne, who like the others was listening, could hardly hear him, despite his keen hearing.

"Who is he?" asked the normally loud Murray in an unusually low voice, attempting to glance at the stranger, but the bartender hissed, "Don't look at him!"

"But you just said – "

"Forget what I said," the bartender hissed again under his breath. He looked into each of their eyes, desperate to get his message across. "Just know this: that guy's _bad news_. He arrived eight days ago, and everyone's scared of him –"

"So? He's a monster, isn't he?" interrupted Wayne, his voice a bit too loud. "A lot of humans are still scared of us. What makes him any different from any other monster?"

"_Hush!_" the bartender shushed them immediately. "I'm not talking about _humans _being scared of him. I'm talking about the _monsters here at the hotel!_"

The four friends stared at the winged monster, incredulous. Monsters ... scared of _other monsters? _That was practically unheard of! Monsters stuck together against the discriminating attitudes of humans who considered monsters to be a threat – poor humans, who were fuelled by classic paranoia. In any case, because of such discrimination, monsters shared a special kinship. They were all brothers and sisters in a world that didn't accept them, not completely anyway, and they would never dream of hurting each other. Sure, there might be the odd monster that you don't like, but he won't try to scare you in any way.

So it was a shock for the four friends upon hearing the bartender's proclamation: "_The monsters here at the hotel – everyone's scared of him!_"

"I don't believe you," said Frank, frowning as he spoke softly. "Why would _anyone_ here be afraid of that guy? He looks pretty harmless, even if he is a messy drinker."

The gigantic monster chanced a glance in the direction of the stranger, who sat hunched over the counter, twirling his tumbler around in a black-gloved hand. The remaining contents in his glass swirled around like an angry, amber tornado.

The bartender shook his head. Anxiety revealed itself through his worried expression. "You guys just got here, right? Well, let me tell you _again_: he's _bad news_. There are rumours going around that he used to be a hotshot scientist, before he became a madcap doctor and took a turn for the worse – "

"Hey Frank, maybe it's the doctor who made Eunice," joked Murray, trying to lighten the mood.

Wayne tittered weakly, but Griffin and Frank only had eyes for the bartender. "Where'd he come from?" Frank asked, very much interested in the story.

"Dunno. He just arrived at the hotel, checked himself in and keeps out of everyone's way. Either he sticks to his room or comes down here for a drink. What he does all day ... no one knows, but everyone's talking. Like I said, they say he was a scientist, and he used to be living the high-life in the human world. Some place called London, I think it was."

"He lived among humans?" Griffin inquired, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

"Yeah," confirmed the bartender in a hiss. Pausing, he added, "That's because he _used _to _be_ a _human_."

"What?!"

"No way!"

"Really?!"

"_Bull! _You're pulling our legs, man!"

"_Quiiiiiiet!_" muttered the bartender under his breath, gesturing wildly to the four friends to quiet down. "For my sake, keep your voices down, otherwise I'm kicking you out for disorderly conduct."

"Sorry, we're just so ... surprised," apologised Griffin gently on behalf of his friends. "It's not everyday you get a human staying in the hotel. Like, _legitimately_ staying in the hotel."

In the corner of his eye, Griffin peered at the stranger, who was sitting stock still and no longer playing with his tumbler. He looked deep in thought, but it was difficult to tell when one couldn't see his face.

_What a shame. Just because he was human, everyone's scared of him._

_It must be terrible to feel isolated like that ..._

Wringing his wrists in an attempt to calm himself, the bartender took a deep breath before addressing the attentive monsters before him. Griffin wondered if he even heard the Invisible Man's apology, but he decided that the winged monster did when he continued:

"Anyway, rumours say he was a decent scientist before he went mad. Dabbled in dangerous experiments – _secret_ experiments. Goodness knows who or what he tested on, but it's said that the last thing he experimented on was _himself_."

"That's just sick," muttered Wayne, narrowing his incandescent-yellow eyes in repulsion as he took a sip of his drink. "Who does that?"

"_He_ does, apparently, so they say," replied the bartender under his breath. "Mixed and messed with chemicals, and then tried it on himself. No one knew about it, not even his closest friends. They all thought he was a respectable man of science, totally unaware of what he was doing in his lab day and night ..."

He paused.

His audience leaned in, not wanting to miss any tantalising detail.

Finally, he said quietly, "But word has it that those chemical experiments greatly affected him, not only in appearance, but in actions, too. It actually drove him to _murder_."

"_Murder?_" Griffin whispered, flabbergasted. Frank, Wayne and Murray's jaws dropped down in shock at the proclamation. They almost dropped their drinks.

The bartender nodded. "Yes, _murder_. They say he killed a man, a well-to-do human who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Word got out that he was responsible for the murder, and that he tried to kill himself before they could capture him." He suddenly shuddered. "Of course, it's only rumours, but once you get a good look at him ... I don't know how to explain it properly, but once you look at him ... you can't help feeling _dislike _for him ... _intense_ dislike ... because when he looks at you, it's like pure evil is staring you right in the face ..."

He shuddered again: his face carried a haunted look. "And believe you me, it makes you _scared_. _All_ of us are scared of him. He's bad news, so when he does appear we all steer clear of him."

The four friends were completely dumbfounded. A _murderer? _In _Hotel Transylvania? _Of all the hotels in the world, _he _had to go and check himself in _here? _Griffin felt his blood run cold at the thought of a killer sitting only a few seats anyway, let alone staying in the same hotel. Judging by their expressions, the Invisible Man could tell that his friends felt the same way, too. Murray even took a large gulp of his Bloody Aztec to calm his nerves.

"Does Dracula know about this?" the Invisible Man asked the bartender, worriedly. "Surely we ought to tell him?"

The bartender stared at Griffin. "What can _Dracula_ do? We don't know for sure if all those rumours are true, and the guy hasn't done anything wrong. Like I said, either he hides away in his room – Room 354, so I've been told – or he shows up for a drink. We can't exactly kick him out the hotel because of that fact. That, and he's acceptably a monster. What can Dracula do?" he asked again.

"I hate to admit it, but he's right," said Frank, sighing. "He doesn't have any proof that this guy's up to no good. Besides, Drac has enough on his plate already, what with Mavis coming home soon."

"You kidding me? Drac will shut this place down and go to work on this guy before anything ruins his big day!" retorted Murray fiercely. "He won't be letting no killer stay in this hotel even if Drac was the last monster on earth!"

Only when the mummy concluded did Griffin, Wayne, Frank, the bartender and Murray himself realise that he had said these words _very loudly_.

So loudly, that the black-clad stranger must have heard him, for he slowly turned his head and looked in their direction.

All of them, including the bartender, froze at the sight.

It was the most horrible face Griffin had ever seen.

An angular face, pale in complexion yet somehow bordering on grey, peeked out from behind the black hood. Scraggly, long strands of what seemed to be chestnut-coloured hair framed his pointed visage, the ends just about touching the top of his shoulders. His neck was black with dust and dirt, and it looked desperately in need of a scrub. In the centre of the face there lodged a sharp nose, hawk-like with small, creased nostrils. His lips, pursed in what looked like a scowl, were thin and colourless, though the contents of his drink temporarily gave his ashen lips a light, golden colour. Even his chin was not spared – amber liquid had stained his jaw.

But his eyes were the scariest of all.

They were unlike any eyes Griffin had ever seen. They were narrow in shape, almost Asiatic or cat-like in its slant. Dark eyebrows, like worms, rested above them. The eyeballs themselves were completely black: no other colours could be seen. They were like black holes that someone cut into his face with a pair of scissors, to showcase his inner soul, if you will. Pinpoints of white glared out of those holes in the friends' direction, and Griffin assumed – not without a shudder – they were his pupils. Three or four black jagged lines ran from the bottom of his eyes, as if at some point in his life the skin on his cheeks cracked open. The skin around these deep-running black scars was swollen, wet with some transparent fluid that flowed from some open swelling, and lightly crimson in colour.

_That is just nasty ...nastiness in a class all by itself ..._

Almost immediately, in response to his fear, something welled up in Griffin's body, something strong and unrelenting as he stared back at the stranger: _hatred_.

Hatred, pure and simple. Looking at this unfamiliar person's face for about two seconds, and the Invisible Man couldn't help but feel total abhorrence for this creature. He just didn't like him, and yet ... he couldn't figure out why. Sure, the story they heard made Griffin feel a bit wary of the other monster, but he was surprised at his sudden loathing.

_Just from looking at him. Geez, talk about judging a book by its cover._

_A dirty, horrible, sick, horror-of-a-story book._

Before Griffin could dwell anymore on his thoughts, the stranger slid off the bar-stool and stood up. His posture no longer hunched, he was incredibly tall, about the same height as Dracula, and a foreboding presence. His black attire consisted of gloves; an ankle-length, weather-stained, hooded coat; a grimy white shirt; shabby trousers and calf-length boots made of leather. His whole appearance clearly demanded that he wanted no attention on himself, but on the guests at the hotel, especially the other monsters in the room, it had the opposite effect.

All eyes in the bar turned to him as he walked away from his place in the corner. Friends and acquaintances stopped talking to each other, conversations faded into silence, and orders for more drinks ceased. A hushed silence fell in the bar as he walked up to the four friends and stopped right next to Griffin, whose skin grew cold at the proximity of the stranger.

Leaning over the counter slowly, practically resting his stomach on the counter-top, the stranger stared at the bartender, who looked about ready to faint there and then. He stared at the winged creature for a solid ten seconds, which visibly unnerved the other monster considerably.

Griffin and the others watched this display, waiting for the next move.

Then, the stranger reached inside his coat, and he pulled out a few coins, which he placed on the counter next to him. As he did this, he canted his head to the side, and again the four friends felt the full brunt of his malevolent gaze. Pinpoints of white stared hard through Griffin, as if looking through his invisibility and glimpsing into his mind and soul, scrutinising his secrets and desires ...

And as fast as he arrived, the stranger picked himself up, turned on his heels and walked out of the bar, disappearing into the darkness of the hotel.

The silence continued ... for about three seconds.

Wayne whistled, staring after the other monster as he left. "Wow. That guy is _creepy_."

"No duuuhh!" exclaimed Murray, nearly spilling his drink on Griffin. "Waltzing up here like he owns the place and giving us the "evil eye". I mean, did you _see_ those eyes? There's nothing but evil in 'em! He's got a nightmare face, for sure, it's even worse than Dracula's! He don't even deserve to be called a monster. That's too good a title to give the likes of _him_."

"I don't know about you guys, but I wouldn't want to mess with him," said Frank seriously, finishing the last of his drink. "He _does_ look like bad news. I think it's best that we keep out of his way, because I don't think he appreciates that we were talking about him, especially since Murray called him a killer out loud."

"I was caught up in the story, alright?" argued Murray, flustered. "You with me on this one, Grif? Grif? You alive, Griffin?"

"Huh? Oh, I'm fine," replied Griffin, snapping out of his trance and remembering where he was. "Just a little ... occupied."

"You sure you're alright, Grif?" asked Wayne, concerned. "That guy was right next to you, looking like he was practically sitting on top of you from where I'm sitting. You got a full view of that scary face. I can't even get that image out of my head!"

He shuddered, his brown fur bristling.

_Neither can I_, thought the Invisible Man, also shuddering. _Pure evil stared me right in the face._

There was only one way to forget that nightmare face, of course.

"I'll be okay after a couple of drinks," he responded cheerfully, finishing his Flirtini. "Who's with me?"

"I'll drink to that!" laughed Murray, throwing back his head and drinking up the last droplets of his Bloody Aztec. With an appreciative, lip-smacking sigh, the mummy slammed his glass down and addressed the bartender: "Barman! Give us all a refill, and keep them coming 'til we cry "Uncle"!"

It took a few moments for the bartender to comply with Murray's request. He was still reeling from the effects of the stranger looking at him. As if struck by lightning, but still a bit dazed, the bartender took the coins and went to prepare the gang's drinks.

* * *

Griffin didn't know how it happened.

The Invisible Man's memories were a bit fuzzy, to say the least. He remembered being in the bar with his friends, busy on his fourth drink (or was it the fifth?) and laughing at a joke Murray made, and laughing even harder when Frank's head fell off in the middle of the gigantic blue monster's fourth (or was it the sixth?) drink. He laughed so hard, he fell off his stool and landed face-first, nearly breaking his spectacles. No one had noticed until he began screaming for a little help, causing Wayne to get a fright and spill his fifth (or was it the seventh?) drink all over Murray, who dropped his own drink (eighth or ninth?) over Frank's head. Everyone laughed, except Griffin, who was still on the floor, waiting for a helping hand and beginning to babble to himself.

Next thing the Invisible Man knew, he was walking (check that, crawling) through some random hotel floor, trying to find his bearings, or lack thereof. He tried to stand, grabbing onto the walls for support, but his attempts to balance were clearly unsuccessful, and more often than not he found himself on the floor, which felt really nice and comfortable suddenly ...

"Hoo boy, where's Drac when you need him?" he muttered aloud, falling against a bedroom door, to the consternation of the door-knocker.

"Do NOT disturb!" the shrunken head exclaimed, "and get yourself some water, you drunken fool!"

"Be nice before I tape your mouth shut," responded Griffin, adjusting his spectacles and patting the head affectionately. "I'm not looking for a fight. It wouldn't be fair for me to beat little ol' you."

"OH! I can take you any day of the week!" exclaimed the shrunken head, indignantly. "I can kick your sorry, see-through butt with my eyes shut, sewn up or not. Come on! Take your best shot! Or do you want me to go first?"

"You wouldn't lay a fing- ... uh ... your head on me, one of Count Dracula's best pals, would you?" questioned Griffin innocently, casually flicking the head with a translucent finger. "He'd be veeeerrry angry, you naughty little head."

"Please! He wouldn't know how much of a beating I'd give you even if I had to paint you up first before I landed the first blow!" retorted the shrunken head, swinging from side to side.

"That hurt," said the Invisible Man, genuinely wounded by the remark. "He would totally know what you did. He's clever like that."

"Not clever enough to recognise an invisible, drunken ditz like you."

"Drunken ditz, huh?" Griffin was miffed now. Garnering all his strength, he staggered to his feet. "Oh, I'll show you. I'll show _him_, too! I'm more than just invisible – and a ditz! Okay? He doesn't realise what I think of him, but pal, when I find him, I'll tell him, and won't _you_ be so wrong when he says he loves me back!"

"Crazy drunk, what the hell are you talking about?"

"Oh yeah, he'll march right up and tell you that he looooves me, 'cause I love him, and then you're gonna get it!" replied the Invisible Man cheekily, leaning against the wall. "He's the best thing in my life, and he doesn't know it yet, but he'll know soon. In fact, I'll go and tell him now."

"Go ahead and try," retorted the shrunken head. "You'll probably have to repeat yourself like three times before he realises you're standing in front of him."

The Invisible Man's cheeks reddened in anger at the insult. "Stick it up your head, jerk. Now, go back to sleep."

Pushing himself off the wall, Griffin breathed in deeply before staggering down the corridor, in search of a certain vampire ...

... only to walk a few steps and fall flat on his face at least two doors down from the shrunken head, who laughed to itself.

Griffin groaned, blinking repeatedly to try to get rid of the blur in front of his eyes. Suddenly he felt so tired, too tired to get up and find Dracula, too tired to get up, full stop. His body was sore, crying out for the embrace of a soft bed. But at the same time he wanted to lie there and shake off his drunken stupor before he did something stupid.

_Oh wait, I just confessed my feelings for Dracula to a shrunken head who wanted to beat me up. Geez, how low can you go? Silly me._

_Ah well, at least nobody else heard me._

Comforted by the thought, Griffin closed his eyes for a few seconds, content enough with the extra thought that no one would bother him because no one would realise he was on the floor.

The thought came too late.

When he heard the door on his right open wide, Griffin knew his peace was about to be disturbed. Turning his head slightly to the right, worn-out black leather shoes appeared in his blurred vision. In fact, black was all he could see as his eyes wandered upwards. Shoes, trousers, arms ... all black, as far as the eye could see.

_All black? Looks familiar ..._

Suddenly, Griffin felt hands grab him tightly around his waist. Leather fingers dug hard into his stomach, digging into his flesh, and before he could utter a cry of pain, the Invisible Man felt himself being lifted off the ground, pressed hard against a rigid body and pulled backwards. Griffin struggled a little, but the grip around his stomach tightened, knocking the wind out of him and causing his body to slacken.

As he was being pulled against his will into the darkness of some random person's hotel room, Griffin glanced up the door before it was shut.

At the top, it read _354_.

And all Griffin could think of were those black eyes, with its telescopic white pupils, and its owner, who was probably going to kill him.

_Damn, where's Drac when you need him?_

* * *

**A/N: **Yay, second chapter! It came out long, but I thought "never mind!" and let it be. Hope y'all like it. Griffin can be a handful when he's drunk, hey? It's so hard to do the characterisation for the characters, but hopefully it's okay. Just who is this stranger who's giving everyone the evil eye?

Reviews are welcome!

*~AI07~* ;)


	3. Inside Room 354

**Waiting in the Wings**

**Chapter 3: Inside Room 354**

Before he knew it, Griffin found himself pushed down hard onto a bed, forced into a sitting position. Groggy, and feeling a headache coming on, he took in his surroundings with slightly blurry eyes: the moonlight that filtered through the window lightened up the room somewhat, though it was still fairly dark. Room 354 was like any other in the hotel, though every available flat surface was strewn with strange instruments and equipment that the Invisible Man recognised to be advanced and dangerous-looking. If Frank and Eunice's descriptions were anything to go by, he knew them to be tools used by scientists.

Particularly by scientists who were up to no good.

The Invisible Man's blurry eyes wandered to a dressing table, where a tall figure in black stood with his back to him, fiddling with a tumbler and other scientific tools that lay on the table's surface. Even in his inebriated state, Griffin's common sense awakened, telling him to get out of there before he did something that he would regret. However, his body was so sore, and as he willed himself to get up, his body cried out in pain, his legs wobbling, and he fell back onto the bed with a groan.

The figure stiffened at the sound, and slowly he turned in Griffin's direction. When he saw his face, the Invisible Man felt a violent shiver run down his spine.

The stranger's face was grotesque, even more so in the moonlight. Those horrific black eyes with its white pupils stared down hard at Griffin, emotionless, cold. The skin around the black scars were still wet, and that mouth was set in a thin line. In his leather-gloved hands, he held the tumbler, filled with fizzing green liquid.

Griffin gulped in fear. _What's he gonna do with that? Is he gonna poison me?_

The stranger walked towards him, and the Invisible Man wanted to push himself back against the wall, but his body was immobile with pain. So he gulped once more, a breath away from whimpering …

Wordlessly, the stranger pushed the tumbler against Griffin's transparent chest. Catching the glass in his grip before it could spill over, the Invisible Man looked up at the other's repulsive face, in both surprise and bemusement.

"Drink," said the stranger suddenly.

"What?" Griffin squeaked, shrinking back at the sudden outburst.

"Drink," the tall figure repeated, his emotionless face as hard as stone. He gestured to the tumbler. "It will help you with your pains and it will clear your head, especially in your state."

His voice was unusually low and elegant, his accent laced with inbred quality. There was something sophisticated, polished and refined about that voice, and that definitely stunned the Invisible Man: how could such a cultured voice issue forth from the mouth of a monstrous creature like _him?_

Griffin stared up at the stranger, still as a statue, then he looked at the tumbler in his translucent hands. The fizzy liquid bubbled away in the glass. If the Invisible Man was not mistaken, steam emanated from the green solution, fogging the glass.

Inwardly cursing himself for what he was about to do, Griffin clumsily tipped the tumbler back and drank.

When he finished the tasteless contents of the glass, a sudden warmth emanated from his core, spreading over his body. It was not an uncomfortable warmth – in fact, it felt _good_. His sore pains melted away; the throbbing headache disappeared in the face of the heat; the blur in his eyes vanished, and he was left with a startlingly clear vision; his heavy tipsiness was all burned up, leaving him light, and, surprisingly, stone-cold sober. His senses returned to him, and the Invisible Man inwardly welcomed them back.

Then, as quickly as it came, the warmth vanished.

Griffin sat up higher on the bed, stronger and clear-headed, and, placing the tumbler beside him, he looked up at the tall figure in awe. "Thanks a lot for the drink. It was good."

"You needed it," came the genteel reply, without so much as a "you're welcome" or "my pleasure". The black eyes narrowed in what looked like … _amusement? _"Hearing you make a din outside and making a perfect fool of yourself – in front of a _door-knocker_, no less – warranted a quick-fix, wouldn't you agree?"

The Invisible Man was glad that the other monster could not see the furious blush rising to his crystal-clear cheeks. "That shrunken head provoked me," he said pathetically, adjusting his spectacles. "It called me a drunken ditz."

"I'm inclined to agree with the head," the stranger promptly replied, his face still emotionless. "You _were_ acting like a 'drunken ditz', as it so crudely called you."

Griffin was miffed when he heard these words. _Why the hell am I wasting my time having a conversation with this guy? Time to make tracks, Grif._

"Look," the Invisible Man growled furiously, "I appreciated the drink, but I didn't expect to be insulted two seconds later, and if that's the way you're gonna talk to me, then I see no reason why I should stick around any longer. Good _night!_"

The Invisible Man immediately stood up from the bed, only for a leather-clad hand to shoot out, clamp down hard on his left shoulder and push him down back onto the bed with a surprised and audible "_Oof!_".

Recovering from his initial surprise, Griffin glared up at the stranger, who regarded the Invisible Man with an amused expression that graced his repugnant features. Hatred welled up in him once more as he spat, with venom in his tone, "What did you do that for? Are you gonna keep me here against my will or something, or was that push just for kicks?"

"If I said I wanted to apologise, you'd have walked out that door," said the stranger, his lips curling into a smile, though the effect was scary: the skin of his cheeks looked ready to split even more, and his lips looked ready to disappear. "Hence the force. I do _so_ apologise for my atrocious behaviour. As you can see, I haven't had the pleasure of company for a long while."

"I can believe that."

"Yes, I suppose you would," the figure sighed, dropping into a chair next to the bed. The "smile" was gone. "I'd imagine that you think me quite detestable, abominable – why, _abhorrent_, even! Not only in looks, but in personality, too. All I can do is inspire hatred in the hearts of those who lay their eyes on me. Who would want to engage such a person in conversation? Who would be stupid enough to seek companionship with the likes of me?"

Staring at the tall stranger, suddenly looking pathetic and small in his chair as he uttered those words, Griffin stiffened, feeling a flood of guilt overcome him. The Invisible Man shifted in his place on the bed, not at all enjoying the awkwardness of the situation.

"Seriously, you shouldn't be so hard on yourself," he finally offered, sounding apologetic. "I didn't mean to sound harsh. I've had a long day, I've had my fair share of invisibility jokes, and that shrunken head got to me. I guess I needed to take it out on someone – and it just happened to be you."

He paused, looking down at his lap. "You know you're right, by the way: I _was_ being a drunken ditz. You could say I _am _a ditz, though just not drunk," he added with a chuckle.

Griffin looked up at the other person, who stared back with that "smile". Trying to grin himself, the Invisible Man said, "Thanks for helping me out. I bet I would've been lying in that corridor 'til morning if you hadn't come along."

The stranger raised his hand, waving away the thanks. "It's the least I can do, Mr …?"

"Griffin. My name is Griffin. I'm the Invisible Man, in case you didn't notice."

The stranger chuckled softly at the joke. "I _see _that now, Griffin – no pun intended."

"Of course," Griffin replied, smiling genuinely now. "What's your name?"

The stranger stared straight into the Invisible Man's eyes, and Griffin forced himself not to shiver in fear.

"My name," the other monster intoned, as if he was saying something that he learned off by heart, "is Edward Hyde, though almost everyone calls me 'Mr Hyde'."

* * *

**A/N: **Edward Hyde LIVES! *Dramatic music* I realise that there is a charrie by that name in the movie, but for the purposes of this story, I decided to amp him up a bit. Of course, I have my reasons for making him different from his book counterpart (who's small like a dwarf), but I'll explain them later and you'll understand why. So, why does he _really_ have Griffin in his hotel room? The next chapter shall reveal all, heh heh. ;P

Reviews are welcome!

*~AI07~* ;)


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